


Statues

by LoyalTheorist



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: But Not in a Sad Way, Everyone is Dead, Fallen Heroes, Gen, Statues, Tributes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-16
Updated: 2018-09-16
Packaged: 2019-07-13 02:48:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16008701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoyalTheorist/pseuds/LoyalTheorist
Summary: They are the town's heroes, that much is agreed on. But what they did to deserve a pedestal in the middle of town is a mystery. A puzzle. When you're around them, you get the feeling that's how they like it.





	Statues

In the centre of the town, there was a statue. Once, it had just been a pedestal, intended for the placement of varied statues of the town's heroes when they died.

They did not, unfortunately, have to wait long. Sitting on the edge of the pedestal was now an old man of limestone, drawing up blueprints for something or other, completely enraptured in his work. He was not kempt in the slightest, but something about the way he sat suggested an inner calmness.

_Beside him, a pile of papers seemed to get slowly bigger. It took a time lapse video for it to be noticed, but it was definitely happening._

It was almost another decade before the next statue was added. It was around this time a young woman questioned aloud whether it was better or worse that neither of the statues looked at the townspeople (they did later, but that was, of course, later). The statue was another old man, this one made of pure gold. He stood almost directly in the middle of the pedestal, with an airy grin on his wrinkled face. His arms were thrown wide, head tilted upwards just slightly so that he seemed to be in execellent spirits. He looked as though he'd just finished telling a story with the single worst twist ending in the world, and was practically living off of the horrified glares of his comrades (true, it was an oddly specific definition, but when any of the townspeople were asked to describe him, that was exactly how they did it every single time).

_He smelled like the ocean, and sometimes, people would hear the shouts of a man advertising something or other in a gravelly voice, dispite nobody having been on the street an the time. The video from the security camera on the street had showed nothing, but, as Cassady McReally remarked, you didn't see ghosts if they didn't want you to. She quit studing the town shortly afterward, claiming that the town "had it out for her"._

Not a month later, he was joined on the pedestal by an onyx look-alike. This man's head was also tilted upwards, but not in the same hospitible way his counterpart's was (later, those who studied the statue and its town would conclude that the two were twins, though that wasn't by any means a difficult conclusion to draw). This man instead looked indignant, as though someone had insulted him, but also partiality bemused, as though perhaps they had insulted his head of curly hair or his knee-length trenchcoat. It was also assumed that someone had made some sort of design mistake on that one, because, dispite the seeming perfection of the statues that came both before and after it, the hands that held the blaster seemingly out of a science fiction film had six fingers.

_Everyone tried to ignore the way they actually had caught that statue twitching and blinking. Then there was the one time there'd been a skull-splittingly loud bang from the statue, and upon investigation, it was discovered that a hole the size of a fist had been melted straight through the alabaster pedestal._

The next two were added at the same time. One was an middle-aged iron man, the other a middle-aged silver woman. Neither body, noted the more philosophical studiers of the town, was perfect, which they found to be refreshing, since they supposed this particular part of the statue was supposed to represent true love. They held each other's hands, the man helping the woman up onto the pedestal. Both expressions were of pure, unadulterated affection for the other, of eternal bliss so long as they were together.

_They laughed when it rained. Giggles, snorts, the occasional corny one-liner. Finnley Zahia had seen it and screamed, leaving the town and promising never to return. Residents would never forget the time the two had an entire conversation over the course of three days._

The next installment was a young woman of platinum with short hair. She, too, held her head high. She gazed off into the distance, a dreamer's smile on her face. Her arms crossed over her chest, hands cluching oppisite sides of a jacket that clung to her hourglass figure. One of the pointed toes of her high-heeled shoes was raised over the top of a bell (even the experts had yet to figure that one out).

_In the early hours of the morning, she sang. Albeit, it wasn't very good singing, but there was a singing statue, for goodness' sake. Under no circumstances would anyone tell her that her singing was even slightly off-key._

Then an older, obsidian man, with gaunt features and a wicked grin. He was placed so that his back was to the others, and as such, he couldn't be seen when entering town. In between his long, thin fingers he held a pencil, seemingly twirling it around, thinking. In front of him, off of the pedestal, sat a woman and a child, also of obsidian, and the three of them looked as though they were having a conversation (why some people were not on the pedestal and yet still included in it's design was another thing nobody had figured out yet).

_The child moved. They clung onto their mother one day, their father the next. Sometimes, they were content to sit on the ground and pick grass._

After that, a marble young man. He was short and stocky, his uncannily scant hight only made more obvious by his kneeling near the edge of the pedestal, the first of the statues actually looking out into town. His salesman's grin was teetering on the edge of being malicious, his arm slung over one of his legs. He had rounded features and a pig's nose, and his hair stuck out in different directions, but there was a general "up" that seemed consistant.

_Anything placed on the pedestal nearby him mysteriously disappeared or was pushed onto the ground. Ocassionally, things were flung at people. Not heavy objects, thankfully, though there had been an incident with a model of the solar system and a very bad clas presentation._

Two weeks later, a bronze thirty year old man was hoisted onto the pedestal, sitting cross-legged, reading a book, yet his eyes were fixed on something to the left of him, not the granite volume he held in one hand. His other hand ran through his curly hair. Across his forehead, partially hidden by his hair, were a series of indents in the shape of the big dipper. His smirk was a quiet twist of his lips that was somehow painful to look at. He sat just in front of the first twin, almost leaning against him.

_He flipped through his pages. One page - one day. The stack of books beside him had not been placed there by human hands. He sneezed sometimes - or maybe that had been the kitten in front of the statue - it was hard to say._

Afterwards, the statue was ivory, and it was she, the same girl who had asked whether it was better or worse that the statues' eyes did not look at the townspeople. She was almost entirely average in appearence, with average wavy hair and an average weight. Yet, the clothes she wore suggested someone so far from average that saying that she was would have been an insult. She wore a sweater that would have been considered too big by many overtop a frilly layered skirt and leggings. Her feet were bare, her eyes closed. She was laughing as she leaned against the previous statue, and it was she whom he looking at.

_She would open her eyes and remove her head from the shoulder of who the experts supposed was her brother, given their similar features, and look at him and giggle. Her sweater had a new design every day, and the townspeople would've been hard-pressed to forget the carefully knitted sweaters they'd all had on one Christmas. Nobody in town admitted to doing it._

Finally, an old wooden woman was added to the collection, an axe in her hand, a villainous smile on her thin face. She had swaths of hair that floated behind her, locks curling around each other in a way that couldn't logically be possible with wood. Her eyes focused on the forrest far down the path.

_She smelled like pine and flannel. Pine was reasonable. Flannel was less so. It baffled everyone but the residents of the town itself, who seemed to get some great pleasure in screwing the scholars over by saying that was a perfectly normal thing for a statue to smell like._

One day, nearly a century after the placement of the wooden woman, all thirteen statues dissappeared. Just dissapeared during the night, and nobody knew why. Come to think of it, nobody had seen the statues being moved in, either. That was...weird.

**Author's Note:**

> I imagine that half of it is in a fountain - Soos & Melody definitely are, Fiddleford probably is, Gideon might be, Wendy, Robbie, and Pacifica definitely aren't.   
> Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this - I'm experiementing with desciption right now, which means you're in for one-shots.   
> -Theorist Out.
> 
> P.S. I'm trying to make a list of all 500 Fords in the 500 Fords AU. I've got fifty-one so far. Any suggestions?


End file.
